The Edge
by flowerpicture
Summary: Stendan edging.


The scarves are nice. Silky, smooth, luxurious. They sit pretty around Steven's wrists, binding them to the posts at the head of the bed, the ends trailing down to tickle the flesh of his forearms and the corners of the bed. The bed's big, and Steven's arms are spread wide like an offering, like Jesus on the fucking cross, slightly raised off the mattress, sinewy muscles straining and tense.

"Are you sure?" Brendan asks, yet again, because he _has to be sure_, or else this doesn't happen. He didn't know about it at first, didn't think the idea did it for him, likes to dominate in the bedroom but not _dominate_. But Steven near-on begged, eyes wide and warm, and he slithered up Brendan's body while kissing pleas into his skin and Brendan's never been able to say no even if he wanted to.

Only now, he's not certain he wants to say no. There's something about this that's hitting him deep and his cock's quirking up at the sight of Steven like this, spread wide and bound, looking up at him with heat and excitement.

"Really fucking sure, Brendan, stop asking," Steven says on one breath, whispers almost, words pushing out of him on a wave of lust. "You said I can have anything."

He did say that, breathed the promise into Steven's ear an hour ago at the club, but he didn't think Steven would ever want _this_. The proud, feisty ball of sexual energy wanting to be tied down and controlled, not just his body but his pleasure, wants Brendan to control his _pleasure_, get him there and get him there but hold off, not give him everything, make him wait, he says, until he can't take it any longer and then make him wait _more_, wants the best orgasm of his life, wants Brendan to give it to him. Brendan gives it to him every day, twice a day on occasion, world-rocking orgasms that leave him a trembling mess, but this is different. This is edging Steven into insanity with pleasure and Brendan feels the weight of pressure, of getting it right for him, and he feels the tight coil of anticipation in his gut.

He doesn't know who's more of a heated mess right now with the idea of what's to come.

He climbs onto the bed and crawls over to Steven, straddles his thighs. It's new for them—so used to settling between Steven's legs that straddling him feels strange and exotic and Steven looks up at him with a spark in his eyes, Brendan wondering if he likes it, the possibility. But that's for another time, a discussion for a different day.

He presses fingers over Steven's ribs. "You ready?"

Steven nods, hands forming fists by the bedposts, tugging a little at the binds. He licks his lips, waiting, chest hitching—

Brendan leans over him for a kiss. It wasn't his intention; there wasn't supposed to be anything _affectionate_ about this. But he needs it, this moment of connection, licking into Steven's mouth and tasting his desire. It's a soft, slick kiss and he closes his eyes with it, holds Steven's face in his hand, bracketing his ear and stroking a thumb over his cheek. Just a moment of love, before it begins, a moment to let them both know that underneath all the primal, animalistic instinct likely to take them both over soon, there's still this.

There's a minute of it, bruised lips and overstimulated tongue, before Steven presses his hips up suddenly. The wet head of his cock brushes against the skin below Brendan's navel and he sighs a moan into Brendan's mouth, precome clinging to hair, shiny to Brendan's gaze as he breaks the kiss and looks down, forehead tipped against Steven's.

He curls his body over then so he can pull his hips up, drag his balls all along the underside of Steven's dick and back down, a stimulating trail that he repeats, pushing down for some pressure against the base of his cock, dragging up and down Steven's dick twice, thrice, and again, again, until a glob of precome spurts from Steven's dick and drips down onto his own tummy, until he jerks at the binds around his wrists, until he's sucking in a stuttering breath.

Then Brendan realigns his hips, spreads his knees on the bed so he can dip his groin lower, pressing the length of his dick against Steven's and rocking into it, rubbing, the head of Steven's dick catching the ridge under his own, over and over at this steady pace that has Steven panting, pulling on his binds, back arching. Brendan lifts up on one arm and sucks a thumb into his mouth, wets it, then presses it down on Steven's nipple, circling and catching, pinching, rolling his hips and quickening as heat licks at the base of his spine, as Steven tips his head back, throat stretched and exposed.

Brendan reaches down between them, pauses his movements to gather a slick of precome leaking from them both, lifts up enough to spread it over their dicks to ease friction then presses down again, dick against dick, this new smooth, wet glide as he rolls his hips shooting pleasure up his spine as Steven lets out a gasp and a moan, arms yanking on the binds.

"Better?" Brendan murmurs, quickening now, getting back to his pace, their balls squashing together each time he thrusts up, grinding down on Steven's dick on each pull back. Steven nods, panting, and Brendan lowers for a messy kiss as he starts thrusting _hard_, putting some weight behind it, his orgasm distant but clawing at him, Steven close already, starting to tremble, thighs lifting off the bed behind Brendan and pressing against his arse, body curling up as climax pushes at him, fraying his control.

He breaks from the kiss with a low sob, head rising from the pillow and arms straining against his binds, and Brendan thrusts and thrusts and breathes down on Steven's face, watching him squeeze his eyes shut and his lips tense into a line as he fights to keep quiet, curling all up on himself as Brendan pushes him, grinding down, thrusting hard and quick until Steven collapses back on the bed and throws his head back and says, "Brendan—Brendan—" and Brendan stops abruptly, breathing hard, tense pleasure coiling around his spine and Steven heaving with it, teeth clenched as the edge of climax rides his body, pulls on his muscles and nerves, before fading, slowly, in increments, Brendan watching it all play out on his face.

Steven comes down from it, expression smoothing out, but he's still heaving breaths and his skin's flushed red and Brendan brushes his fingers over his brow, murmurs, "You okay?" and pressing a kiss to his temple, his cheekbone, the corner of his lips.

"Yeah," Steven says, tries to say, word strained and broken.

"You good?" He doesn't want to give Steven too long, wants the edge of his orgasm close but just out of reach for now, a persistent ache that Brendan's going to tease to the surface again and again—

Steven nods, licks his lips, eyes fluttering, and Brendan sits up and back on his thighs, retrieves the bottle of lube he placed on the bed before all this began. Squeezes a load of it into his palm as he watches Steven's face, the flush spreading down to his chest, his fingers clenching around the binds of his wrists.

He drops the bottle next to them and wraps his lube-slicked hand around the base of Steven's dick, a loose hold at first as he strokes him, keeping the circle of his hand just wide enough that his contact with Steven's dick is the ghost of a touch as he glides up and down, teasing strokes that make Steven roll his hips up into it, the pursuit of friction, pressure, his lips falling slack as he pants and whines low in his throat.

"Easy," Brendan says, pressing down on Steven's hip with his other hand, keeping him down and in place. He tightens his fist, pushes his thumb against the vein as he strokes him, catches the ridge of his head and the slit, the precome gathering there. He adds more pressure as he pushes up, as if milking the pleasure out of him, twists his fist on each upstroke and increasing his speed, watching Steven's face for signs that he's getting too close.

Steven swallows almost convulsively, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and he's trying to lift his thighs off the bed again but he can't, trapped by Brendan's weight. Sweat's breaking out on in his skin now, his forehead and chest, nipples pulled tight and pebbled, eyes glazing over, and Brendan strokes him harder, the slick sounds echoing through the room as he works him faster, muscles in his arms burning with the exertion. Steven cries out, stomach muscles tensing, and Brendan pushes him through it, pulls on his dick again and again, harder, faster, his own breath stuttering out of him and his dick pulsing with need and then Steven suddenly locks up, mouth parting wide on a silent scream. Brendan gets his other hand down and quick around Steven's balls, tugs them away from his body and squeezes, fist still working hard on Steven's dick as he watches, head spinning, as Steven's entire body jolts and shudders, head tipped back and throat strained raw, the broken sound of a cry caught in his chest as he shudders around the climax Brendan's holding off with the vice-like grip of his balls, forcing him through it with each stroke of his dick and then Steven's begging, "Brendan, please, please—" sobbing almost, the wet drip of a tear falling from one eye, and Brendan gives him another stroke, another, long and slow and hard this time, dragging it out of him, before stopping, removing his hands from Steven's body.

Steven's a juddering mess, muscles all over his body spasming and clenching, stomach sucking in deep and out again as he struggles to control his breathing. His eyes are shot to hell, pitch-dark and unseeing, his lips bitten raw and his shoulders straining as he pulls on the binds.

Brendan leans down to kiss his ribs, his chest, his collarbone, soothing kisses and licks across his skin until the shuddering eases to a less intense tremble, dragging his hands up to caress his sides and his waist, hook his thumbs around hips and suck a bruise onto the skin above his nipple. He lifts up after a few moments to look Steven in the face, check he's still with it; he looks fucked out and hazy, but he nods before Brendan can say anything so Brendan takes it as his cue to continue.

He shifts his weight so he can spread Steven's legs and settle between them, where he belongs, gets his hands under Steven's thighs so he can push them up and open, almost bending him in half.

"Sure you're good?" Brendan asks him, the boneless pliability of Steven's body making him question how far he can take this. "Let me know if you—"

"I'm good, I'm good, please…"

Brendan huffs out a laugh, can't help it. Steven's always been a needy fucker but this is a different level of desperation, looks and sounds as if he'd sell his soul right now if Brendan would keep doing this to him, riding him close to the edge again and again, an exquisite kind of torture Brendan would never be able to take himself.

"You want me to go again?" He smoothes his hands up and down the backs of Steven's thighs as he speaks, kneeling before him, trying not to look down at the pink, twitching hole he can just see on the edges of his vision, tempting him, begging for his attention. He drags one hand down to his cheek, his crack, using instinct to find his hole, press the pad of his thumb against it. It makes Steven jolt. "Want me to lick this open, work my tongue in there?"

Steven nods, lips parting as if he wants to speak but can't, too lost and wrung out.

"Want me to suck on this until you're begging to come?" He pushes his thumb down harder on it, circles the rim, feels it twitching against him. "Think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," Steven breathes, desperate. "Yeah, I need it, please—"

"Not gonna let you come," Brendan murmurs, breaching the muscle slightly, pushing in just a little. "Gonna get you so close you'll be crying with it…"

Steven sobs. "Brendan, _please_—"

Brendan swoops down, gets comfortable on his elbows, both hands on Steven's cheeks to part them wider, hole pulling open, clenching in front of his face, resisting, hungry—he blows against it, watches it twitch, Steven sucking in a breath; blows again, briefly, before bringing a hand over so he can trail one fingertip around the rim, a gentle, circling touch all around the muscle before very softly rubbing back and forth on it, stimulating the nerves, licks his finger quickly to get it wet and continuing with an easier slide now, gliding around and over the rim with just this one finger until Steven's panting with the pleasure of it, the frustration. He keeps it up for a minute or two, this gentle, isolated stimulation of his fingertip against muscle and nerves, watching the hole twitch and clench and try to suck his finger in, pink darkening to red as blood rushes through and swells it, making it slightly puffy and hungry for Brendan's tongue.

He dips in then, just the tip of his tongue, a hint of wet and warmth that makes Steven's hips jerk, unintentionally pulling away from Brendan's touch. He groans and settles again, spreads his knees wider where they're pulled up by his chest, opens himself to Brendan's tongue and Brendan goes in, one long, slow lick with the wide flat of his tongue, straight over the hole and then again, and again, lapping at it like he's thirsty for it, wants to work Steven up in stages, an escalation of pleasure that drives through his body and makes him lose his mind.

He moans at the taste, the sensation against his tongue, presses his face in close for an instant, smothering himself with Steven's hole and cheeks, dips his tongue out a bare inch and flicks over Steven's hole, tickling over the muscle relentlessly before adding pressure, slurping at him now, soaking him with saliva until he's sloppy with it, wrung wet and swollen. Steven's gasping above him, squirming for more, skin slick with sweat and red-hot to the touch. Brendan groans again, can't help it, pushes in against his hole and angles his face so he can get his lips around it and suck, tongue working frantically over the rim, around and in and all over, a thorough soaking, and Steven's swearing now, nonsense falling from his lips and Brendan gets his knees under himself for better leverage, hooks his thumbs into Steven's cheeks and pulls him open.

He's red and swollen and Brendan goes in, thumbs helping to give him space, makes his tongue firm and pushes in past the resistance and tension, pushes in until his lips are pressed against the rim, stays there for a moment, letting Steven's taste wash over him, before pulling back and then in again, out and in, fucking him almost, screwing his tongue in and tilting his head to lick deep and Steven's a mess, babbling and stuttering words, "_Oh god—fuck—please—Bren—I can't—" _

He can, Brendan knows he can, and he screws in quicker, fucks him with his tongue, short, sharp thrusts before pulling out and laving over the rim, soothing it, feeling it flex against him at the sudden loss and he pushes back in, filling him again, licking hard and deep and then out and sucking on the hole and Steven screams, tight and barely restrained, feet coming down on Brendan's shoulders to try to push him away but Brendan resists, sucks harder, pushes his tongue in and grips Steven's hips to yank him close, burying his face against his hole, groaning into it.

It's only at the last second that he remembers Steven's not supposed to come and he wrenches his mouth away with another groan, a groan of deep frustration and agonising arousal, pushing up quickly to see Steven sucking in gasping breaths and his body locked up and he's about to come, right now, without any more stimulation. Brendan grabs his balls lightning-quick, pulls them down and squeezes and Steven gives one full-body, overpowering jerk, his face ripped through with such absolute pleasure-pain that Brendan's dick pulses violently in sympathy. Tremors are wracking through Steven's body and everything from the cords of his neck to his arms to his gut is strained tight against the cascade of pleasure rolling through him, no relief of ejaculation, just this high ride of ecstasy that doesn't peak and let him crash.

The sight of it is so bone-deep hot that it hits Brendan hard and he can't help it. Keeps one hand locked around Steven's balls and shoves the other one down to his own dick because Steven's not allowed to come yet but he can come whenever the fuck he wants, and right now he _needs _to. Strokes his dick quick and hard and shuffles forward on his knees until he can press the head against Steven's clenching hole, breach it, just the rim, not pushing in but feeling the hungry warmth of it push against his head.

Steven's coming down a little now but he's still raw and desperate, and he gets his wits about him enough to stretch his legs out and dig his feet into the small of Brendan's back, trying to pull him in. He wants to be fucked and when Brendan finally releases his balls, his shoulders come off the bed at the shock of it, the fresh wave of sensation shooting through his body and he's still pushing on Brendan, still trying to get his dick in his hole, and Brendan's only human, Christ, in no position to resist.

"Wait—wait—" he says because, _fuck_, someone needs to keep their head straight, even when Steven whines and pushes harder and says, "No," all pitiful and eager.

Brendan manages to get hold of the lube and clumsily drizzle a little on his dick and around Steven's hole, rubs it in quick and messy and doesn't care about finesse, not right now—drops the lube and takes hold of Steven's thighs and pushes into his body, both of them letting out simultaneous groans as Steven's hole swallows him like it's nothing, like he's starving for it.

He starts thrusting in immediately, no patience for care or adjustment, slams into Steven and fucks him deep and hard, lifts Steven's ankles onto his shoulders and grips his thighs, lifting Steven's arse off the bed for a better angle, Brendan's dick dragging directly across his prostate on each thrust, ramming him so hard the headboard cracks against the wall and Steven's punching out breaths and moans and, "Oh, oh, _fuck_—" head thrashing from side to side and thrown back, neck strained and pulled tight. Brendan gets his hands under Steven to grip his arse and uses the hold to lift him higher off the bed so he can grind in deep, deeper than he usually gets, Steven's inside walls rippling around him and the nub of his prostate pushing against the head of Brendan's dick, and Brendan can't take it, can't take it—

He's almost roaring as he fucks in violently, orgasm rushing up on him like a train, powering through him and making him shove in hard, hold, and yank himself out in the instant before the waves of pleasure crash through him and he spunks over Steven's hole, his balls, the backs of his thighs, his hips jolting with each spurt, head spinning, animalistic groans clawing out of him and he sees now, through the haze of pleasure, that he pulled out just in time—Steven looks _wrecked_ with it, out of his mind and wrung through, gasping and begging useless words and eyes almost rolled back in his head.

Brendan's still struggling for breath when he stuffs two fingers into Steven's hole and grips his dick, stroking him instantly and pressing deep for his prostate. "You're gonna come now," he says, voice scratched raw and dry. "You've had enough."

Steven's not listening, doesn't have the capabilities to anymore. He's unseeing and he's unaware and his body's reacting for him—jerking and jolting and shuddering, groaning and gasping breaths and locking up as Brendan pounds relentlessly against his prostate and strips his dick quick and hard and it's ceaseless, desperate, needs to see Steven come _now_, wants to send ecstasy spiralling through him and give him what he wanted—the best orgasm of his life.

When it happens, it's almost inhuman. Brendan's working his hole so hard that his hand's a blur, fingers thrusting in and out and grinding him from the inside, the hand on his dick just as quick, just as relentless, precome spurting in ropes so thick it looks like it's all over—then Steven screams suddenly, like he's been whipped, arching up and body locking so tight that he nearly comes off the bed with it, his hole bearing down on Brendan's fingers and his arms thrashing so wildly that one of the scarves tears loose and then the next scream is agonisingly raw, his whole body pulling tight, suspended in an endless moment of pure, unfiltered rapture before he crashes, mouth open wide and silent now, caught in his beautiful prison of ecstasy as spunk shoots from his dick so powerfully it hits his chest, the underside of his chin.

It seems to take forever to finish, and even when Brendan slows his hands and pulls them from Steven's body, he's still jerking with it all, still riding that wave, and Brendan's crawling over his body and holding him close even as he's still groaning, panting breaths into Brendan's neck, trying to come down. He trembles for long minutes after, held tight in Brendan's arms, and only when Brendan feels his breathing slow does he lift enough to kiss him, his lips and his cheek and his brow, then he pulls back to look Steven in the face, see if he's back on this planet.

Steven grins. He looks fucked to all hell and like he's drunk on three whole bottles of vodka, but the filthy little fucker grins. Brendan can't help but huff a laugh, pull him in for another kiss.

"Hope you're pleased with yourself," he murmurs, smoothing his thumb over Steven's cheekbone and jaw.

Steven tries to speak but his throat locks around it, nothing but a scratchy murmur escaping. It makes him laugh silently, chest reverberating against Brendan's, even as he winces and puts a hand to his throat, swallowing painfully around the scratched rawness there.

"Yeah, it's hilarious," Brendan drawls, deadpan, reaching out quickly to untie the remaining scarf. "You'll be regretting this tomorrow."

He gathers Steven close again, presses his forehead to Steven's shoulder, lays there while he feels his heart rate settle and the cold of the room tickle at his skin. Steven's stroking his back, mindless and relaxed, until he suddenly squeezes his arms around him, an abrupt burst of affection.

Brendan smiles into his skin and thinks about next time, how he can step it up a level to give Steven the _next_ best orgasm of his life.


End file.
